The Greek's Pregnant Bride

‘I didn’t mean to imply that you were spoilt. I appreciate the Mondelli name has been a mixed blessing for you.’

‘And the Markos name?’ she said, glad to be able to turn the conversation onto him. ‘Has that been a mixed blessing for you?’

He raised a shoulder. ‘The Markos name is nothing special. It doesn’t stand for anything.’

‘Yes, it does. It stands for hard work, determination and guts.’

‘Guts?’

‘Rocco told me you got into Columbia on a scholarship. That alone tells me how hard you’ve had to work to get where you are.’

‘We all have our crosses to bear, whatever background we’re born into,’ he said quietly. He tapped on the dividing window. Amidst a hail of tooting horns, the car came to a stop. ‘We will walk from here.’

* * *

man played an accordion, the music only just audible above the raucous noise

them, his arms outstretched. In a flurry of Greek, he pulled Christian into a tight embrace, slapping kisses on his cheeks, all of which Christian returned

he said, before adding, ‘Mikolaj doesn’t speak any English

Mikolaj’s embrace, which finished with an affectionate ruffle of

how comfortable anyone could be when crammed like a sardine was debatable. He plonked a laminated menu in front of her then ruffled her

took the seat opposite. The table was so small his long legs brushed against hers. She waited for him to move them but realised there was literally nowhere else for them to go unless he twisted to the side and tripped up all the waiting

trying to ignore the heat brushing up her

raised his eyebrows. ‘You

a Greek restaurant to be. You can feel the energy—you don’t get

it being here, in his home city, that had caused its construction? Or had she been so wrapped up in her own problems that she hadn’t fully appreciated the effect their situation was having on him? Or a combination

food?’ he said. ‘It’s tourist-proof—all the people in here

tell me you own

is all

It was a Monday evening, hardly the busiest night of the